Little Know Cheesemonger School of Poetry

So much depends
upon
a red wheel
of Edam.
—William Carlos Williams, a.k.a. Dr. Cheese

* * *

If you can keep your head when all about you
Men are losing their Stilton and blaming it on you
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt your mozzarella . . .
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And — which is more — you’ll be a Dairy Man, my son!
—Rudyard Kipling, known to close friends as Saag Paneer

* * *

Let us go then, you and I, while the mascarpone is spread out across the sky
. . . and the women come and go talking of Italian formaggio.
—T.S. Eliot; the T stands for Comté

* * *

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, Maytag Blue, thou hast thy music too —
—John Keats, whose doctors in Italy prescribed little medicinal bites of Gorgonzola

* * *

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
from the cheese plate I took a chèvre
And that has made all the difference.
—Robert Frost, frequent contributor to New England Chowhound

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